


The God of Pins and Needles

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Cloaca, M/M, Magical Realism, This is the strangest series of tags I've ever written.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Celestial Goddess Quartet ask the God of Pins and Needles to help them hang the stars in the night sky, he finds that he may have bitten off a little more than he can chew. Only with the help of his little brother and would-be consort, the Winged God, can he secure the heavens to the dome of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The God of Pins and Needles

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading a lot of Gabriel Garcia Marquez lately.
> 
> OP wanted Bro and asexual Davesprite. This prompt gave me a reason to go to the asexuality website and do some legit research into the forms asexuality can take. I didn't want to fuck up, and hopefully I've avoided doing just that.

_There are stories the elders tell of the gods that are understood to be "not for children". Stories of a lascivious nature. Stories of Pale, Flushed, Black, and Ashen romances elaborated in titillating detail. When the adults in your village have been drinking, they send the little ones to bed, gather around the campfire, and tell tales that aren't for young ears._

_One story tells of when the Silent God and the Matchmaker of the Heavens snuck off to the Crystal Grotto to bathe in the underwater cavern. But when the mischievous Silent God removed his clothes, the goddess forgot all about bathing. She pounced on him and that night they created the amethyst and beryl crystals that you can still see glittering in the water today. Another story tells of when the Great Huntress beat the Goddess of Justice in a wrestling match, and her prize was the right to make love to her (though many suspect the Goddess of Justice let her win). And who could forget the XXX-rated legend, spoken of only in hushed tones, when the Red God shoosh-papped the capricious Laughing God with such pale tenderness that afterword they snuggled up in each other's arms and took a nap that lasted a hundred years._

_It's the Eve of the Clock Festival, the holiday celebrating the day the gods of time set into motion the world's very first day. Together you and your family decorated a dying tree with sacred tokens and over every doorway hung chimes that jingle when you pass under them. Tomorrow, you'll get presents and cake, but tonight is a night for less wholesome fun. Drunken laughter rings through the meeting hall. Your neighbors stumble about the room, either pouring jugs of apple juice down their throats or leaning on one another and stealing kisses. You're curled up on a pillow pile, snuggled warm and sleepy between your matesprit and moirail._

_The storyteller sits on a cushion at the front of the room with the banners of the twelve aspects hanging in a row behind her. She raises a wrinkled hand. The room falls silent._

_She begins. "When the world was new and most things in it were unnamed, the God of Pins and Needles fell in love..."_

* * *

 

This was before mortals were given life and purpose, so there were no honorifics for the gods. In those ancient days, the God of Pins and Needles was called Bro. That was how he was titled; He was known only as the brother of two the gods of time—the God of Rhythm and Rhyme and the Winged God. Otherwise known as Dave and Davesprite.

Bro spent his days sewing little puppets to amuse himself, taking breaks now and then to drop a few ill beats with his little siblings, though usually just Davesprite. Time god duties kept Dave preoccupied.

But though Bro was surrounded by all the delights the divine plane has to offer, he was troubled. His heart was swollen with love.

The more time Bro passed in Davesprite's company, the more he ached. Years piled up during the black, blank space between Bro's death and his resurrection. And all he knew was that when he'd last seen Dave—any Dave—the kid was thirteen, shrill, and blessed with the sex appeal of a used piece of floss. Now he was grown.

Bro sat in his living room at the heart of the gods' city, reclining on the sofa with his feet kicked up on the table. Davesprite mimicked him, resting his heels on the pile of gaming magazines, rendered obsolete by the baby-freshness of the universe. So new there wasn't even anyone around to read magazines, let alone play video games.

Bro fed a needle and thread through a patch of pink felt. Every once in a while, when Davesprite gestured with a bit too much emphasis, his wing brushed Bro's shoulder. Feathers soft as the touches themselves, Bro shivered. Heat rose to his cheeks. He took a deep swig of his beer.

"...you should've seen it though," said Davesprite. "I mean, Adam Sandler is a desperate mess, but troll Adam Sandler is a masterpiece as far as embarrassments go. I laughed my fucking ass into oblivion. I thought I was going to die. Either from a burst lung or from Karkat shoving his sickle so far up my nose it stabbed my brain. Thank god Kanaya was there. The good ol' Kanaya buffer. Anyway, what was I saying? Right, yeah. So we should watch that movie as soon as Karkat wakes up. How long is he and his cuddle-boyfriend going to hibernate? It's been, like, two months now. Not that I'm complaining. I forgot how chill life can be when you aren't getting perpetually screeched at. And murderclown can choke in his sleep as far as I'm concerned—"

"Davesprite."

"Yeah?"

"Don't Dave and Aradia and Damara have a project you should be helping with?"

Davesprite's wings folded tight to his back. "Nah, not really. Why?"

Bro heaved a sigh. Davesprite's expression was neutral, but he never mastered control over his body language. "Trying to keep you on track is all. Just doing what a legal guardian is supposed to do. Grab me another beer. And get one for yourself, too. You're almost eighteen. Go for it."

Davesprite hopped to his feet.

Two beers clinked on the coffee table. Bro popped the cap with his teeth. Davesprite tried to mimic him.

"It's great having feet again," he said, in an apropos of nothing. "Don't know how much you like having them around until you've been living with a ghostbutt for three years. I've been alchemizing all kinds of sweet kicks in honor of my legs' grand comeback. Once dead, now resurrected."

Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff decals plastered his sneakers' toes and heels.

"Pretty fly," Bro said. He pointed at Davesprite's beer. "You want that or what? Drink up."

Davesprite obeyed. Bro observed him out of the corner of his eye. Davesprite frowned as the alcohol hit his tongue, but persevered. Whenever Bro took a gulp, Davesprite matched him with a sip. It wasn't long before Bro sent him to the refrigerator for another bottle. Davesprite nursed his drink while Bro dove into his. But bit by bit, his sips turned into slurps.

Bro pricked his finger as he sewed another stitch into the smuppet-to-be. The blood seeped into the pink felt. "Ah fuck," he muttered.

Davesprite drummed his knees while he chattered. "Like, I don't think sleeping that long is healthy, you know?"

"What?"

"Gamzee and Karkat. What the fuck? How long can two guys nap? I mean, shit, isn't it just a coma at this point? Motherfucking miracles, I guess. Whatever."

Davesprite licked his lips. A drop of beer clung to the corner of his mouth. Bro held his breath waiting for his tongue to reappear to lick it up. Sure enough, pink and wet it flicked out and disappeared. 

"Dave," Bro said.

"Davesprite."

"Sorry, yeah, Davesprite. Remember when you were really little and you wanted to be carried around all time? You were a fucking clingy little shit. Always climbing into my lap." Bro grinned, growing warm at the thought. Or perhaps growing warm with the beer sloshing in his belly.

Davesprite frowned. "I guess." He was quick to add, "I'm not like that anymore, man."

"Sure. Yeah. When we first came into this universe you hugged the crap out of me. I couldn't make you let go."

Davesprite's gaze turned to stone. "The last time I saw you there was a sword in your chest. It was kind of a big deal when you were suddenly alive again."

Bro eyed Davesprite's hand lying on the cushion. When Dave was tiny, he held his hand everywhere they went. Bro reached out like he was reaching for a bear trap. His fingers brushed Davesprite's, and for a moment he felt his warmth radiating from the touch, before Davesprite flinched away.

His wings tensed. "Bro, what the fuck?"

"Sorry. Can't a guy extend a little human comfort, for fuck's sake?"

Bro stabbed the sewing needle through the felt, loathing the blush creeping into his cheeks. A body settled against his shoulder.

"It's cool. No need to make a big deal over nothing," Davesprite mumbled.

Bro discarded his sewing project on the sofa cushion, where it slipped onto the floor. He wrapped his arm loosely around Davesprite's neck and went as still as a possum perched on a garden wall. Davesprite yawned, too full of beer to stay awake. His breaths grew soft. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Davesprite? You awake?"

Davesprite's lips moved in his sleep. Bro stared at his mouth for well over a minute, waiting for Davesprite to awaken or for some calamitous force of justice to strike Bro dead before he could carry out the deed. The world remained still.

Bro placed the softest of kisses on Davesprite's lips.

He didn't stir. Bro pulled himself away. He wobbled to the kitchen and chugged a bottle of water, leaning on the fridge for balance. Davesprite curled up in the warm spot he left behind.

 

* * *

  

The Celestial Witch invented astronomy yesterday.

But in those early times, she was called Jade. In her sacred observatory, she churned comets and exoplanets and supermassive black holes in her cauldron, plotting the orbits of satellites, predetermining the lives of suns, and mapping galaxies across the universe. Calliope named and invented stories for at least a thousand constellations. Kanaya and Porrim wove a net to keep it suspended over the world, lest all of the celestial realm come crashing down.

The creation goddesses needed another person who knew their way around a needle and thread. When Jade asked Bro for help in crafting the fabric of the universe, he shrugged a shoulder, and said, "Sure."

He swaggered into their sanctum with a sewing kit tucked under one arm. Lights twinkled in the black walls. Green nebulas swirled overhead.

"Thank you for coming," said Porrim. She and Kanaya stood at the base of a spiral staircase, winding up through the center of the room and disappearing into the ceiling. "Shall we go up?"

They emerged into the observatory. The spiral staircase rose up and out of the room. Jade played with a dial, opening the domed ceiling to reveal Bro’s favorite shade of orange coloring the sky as the setting sun slid down the horizon.

"Holy crap," he said. He climbed the rest of the way, arriving at the stair's summit: the top of the world. He reached up and brushed his hand against the sky. It was warm and smooth, like marble tile on a Summer night. The four space goddesses floated around him, their gowns fluttering in the breeze.

"Once Vriska finishes lowering the sun, we must secure the shroud to the night sky," Kanaya explained. "Jade has determined that it's best to do it as soon as twilight falls, so that we can have the cosmic net—or star map, or whatever you'd like to call it—move in sync with the circadian cycle."

"That's the theory, anyway," Jade said. Calliope lingered by Jade's elbow, shooting Bro shy glances.

Porrim presented him with a black needle and a spool of silver thread spun from pure starlight. Bro tried not to look impressed. "This will get the job done. Dave told us you design and sew your own foam creatures. Do you think you can work with this kind of material?"

"I can handle anything you got. Don't matter if it's craft felt or magic star silk; I'm the dude for the job."

Doubt crossed Porrim’s face, but she covered it with a patient smile. “We shall see.”

In their color-coordinated goddess pajamas, they hovered like black butterflies. They unfurled the—Bro couldn’t summon up the words to do it justice. The Celestial Seamstress' Tapestry of Eternity. The Sheet Music of the Spheres. The Doily of Midnight Dew. The Lace of Space.

 Gazing up at the star-studded crochet, he tucked his hands in his pockets.

"It's quite sturdy," Calliope said. "Please don't be worried about tearing it while you work."

"Yeah," Jade assured him. "Tug on it and straighten it and get strict with it as much as it needs. You can't hurt it."

The sky shifted from gold to grey.

The four of them flew away from each other, pulling the Lace of Space open so that the ball of billions of lights spread out into a delicate web. Bro placed his palms against the dome of the world, pinning the shroud to the twilight.

It was Bro’s task to give the night sky structural integrity while Porrim and Jade fastened the shroud at opposite ends of the night—Jade flew toward dusk, while Porrim flew toward dawn.

Bro could see Calliope and Jade about half a mile away, little dots slowly blending into the darkening twilight. Porrim and Kanaya were long gone.

Passing the needle through the sky was like trying to shove a dull knife through a leather swatch. Bro jammed the point into the material, feeding it in and out. The first two stitches were lopsided. He frowned.

Fortunately, night passes slowly. After ripping out the stitches, he replaced them with a row of neat dashes before that section of the sky moved out of his reach. 

A star singed his finger. He hissed and dropped the needle. It bounced off the platform, tumbling over the edge down into Jade's observatory nearly fifty feet below. Bro ripped his shades off and squinted at the ground, searching for a silvery glint.

"Fuck."

He heard a ominous ripping above him. Bro almost noticed too late that the lace is sagging.

"Fuck nah, I got this." He popped a plush pincushion tomato from his sylladex. 

He pushed two dozen pins into the sky, spacing them apart to support the stars' weight. It was no use. The pins popped free, as well as the stitches. Bro ducked before the starry heavens could burn a constellation into his forehead. Technical difficulties weren't limited to him, it seemed.

Jade shouted, faint but furious. " _Fuck._ "

Bro glanced toward dusk to see a doggy-eared dot propelling towards him. Jade zipped by.

"Jade, the material is too heavy to sew upside down—"

"I know," she said. "Kanaya and Porrim can fix it."

She barreled on toward dawn. Bro flashstepped down into the observatory to retrieve the needle before any of the space goddesses noticed that he'd dropped it. With it stored safe in his sylladex, Bro shot back up the stairs to see Porrim and Kanaya and Jade returning, bundling the stars in their arms like a bedsheet about to be thrown in the wash. The Lace of Space drooped like spider's silk heavy with dewdrops.

"That could've gone worse," Porrim said. "At least we realized our mistake before trying to hang the entire thing. Some adjustments will be needed, but I'd say that wasn't half bad as far as trial runs go. We'll have to weave something a little lighter. Back to the drawing board, ladies."

Jade groaned. Kanaya and Calliope exchanged looks.

Porrim turned to you. "I'm sorry for the trouble. Once we figure this out, do you mind if I get you up here again to act as our seamstress?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. Not like I've got anything else to do. Let me know when you need me again."

Bro studied the black sheet of the night sky as he strolled through the palace courtyard. Two pink moons hung overhead, just to the left of the pearly white moon that he and his people brought with them from the universe they'd come from.

After the Great Heroes won the universe in a game with the Lord of Destruction, Bro wandered through a black liminal space in the womb of existence, sloshing through celestial amniotic fluid, searching for an exit. When he wandered into the light, his eyes fluttered open to discover a world unlike what he left behind. Like a blind man stumbling out of a cave, he emerged unto a version of existence both eerily familiar and profoundly jacked up—nothing too hot for him to handle, of course.

For instance, he didn’t blink at the absurd surplus of moons floating in the sky.

He didn’t nearly piss himself when a dark-skinned, dog-eared girl body-slammed him in the most aggressive hug he’d ever received from a stranger. He certainly didn’t flip out when he came face to face his younger self.

(He will never speak of the tears he choked back when he ruffled Dave’s hair for the first time in years.)

He will not admit to the panic attack he suffered when he discovered his baby brother now came in a set.

They both nodded to him. "Sup."

"Sup." he'd assumed Dave's multitude of copies would merge, like smushing together the playdoh that he used to leave for Bro to clean up when he was little. Bits of the red scattered around the apartment, all combined back into a ball and stuffed into a plastic tub.

But Davesprite was not a Dave copy.

Bro paused at the Fountain of Life and Death, a pretty chill water feature which serves no practical purpose. If one drinks from Jane's spigot, they'll be cured of all fatal illnesses and wounds. If one drinks from Feferi's spigot, they'll achieve everlasting life. If one drinks from Meenah's spigot, they'll... well, they'll drop dead right there. When they built the fountain they had a huge argument over whether or not Meenah should even be allowed to have a spigot, but Meenah won on the grounds that her powers would make the fountain hardcore as fuck.

Bro gave Meenah’s spigot an approving nod before taking a seat on the edge of the basin.

He cupped his hands to catch the water pouring from Jane's spigot. Fresh and sweet. Feferi's water was salty, which Bro could've guessed considering her alien mermaid shtick. He already had a godly eternal lifespan. But a little extra couldn't hurt.

Davesprite strolled across the courtyard. Bro waved to him.

His wings flinched, ever so slightly, but he nodded to his brother. "What are you doing messing around with Meenah's Murder Fountain," he asked.

"Gonna take a sip. You want some?"

"You're crazy, man. Fuck no."

"We're gods. What could go wrong?"

"Demi-gods. And a lot could go wrong. Meenah will fuck you up regardless of your immortality." 

Bro drank from Meenah's briny fountain.

Davesprite hung back. "Taste good," he asked.

"Sweet as a rat's ass. Try it."

"Nah, I'm good."

"Don't be a pussy, dude. C'mere."

Davesprite lowered his head. The water gurgled inches from his lips when out of the corner of eye his gaze flicked to Bro. "I don't know about this, man. This feels like the time you tried to get me to stick my hand in the blender."

"Yeah, and you chickened out then, too."

"I was seven."

Bro shrugged. "Yeah, and now you're seventeen. Not much has changed."

"Fuck you."

"You would."

Davesprite's cheeks colored. Bro's smirk fell when Davesprite wrapped his lips around the spigot, eyes bolted to his brother, and pulled off with an obscene pop. Water dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Bro swallowed.

Davesprite's eyes widened. He spat the water out into the basin, feathers ruffling. "What the fuck? Is that seawater?"

Bro doubled over laughing. Davesprite sat beside him. He combed his fingers through his wings, smoothing the pinions.

"Dave."

"Sprite."

Bro arched an eyebrow.

"Call me Davesprite," he said.

"Right. Davesprite. I got something I could use your help with. Got a job working with the space ladies trying to set up the night sky. Get it looking proper. But we're having a little trouble keeping it from falling. They're weaving something lighter, they tell me, but it would be a real load off my shoulders if you flew up there with me. Two guys would make the job flow a little smoother."

"Why don't you ask Dave?"

"I'm asking you."

"I know jack and shit about spacey junk. I'm a time guy."

"All I need is for you to hold the stars up while I work."

"You could get anybody who godtiered to do it. I'm not the only one who flies around here."

"Forgive me for wanting to spend time with my brother."

"You've got another brother. Ask him.

"Whatever." Bro's stomach turned. He smacked his lips, still salty from the fountain. Brows knitted, he put a hand to his abdomen, where his guts roiled. He cleared his throat.

Davesprite peered at him over his shades. "What's up? You look like you're about to puke."

Bro grunted in agreement.

"Bro?"

Knees shaking, Bro pushed himself to his feet. He took a step, holding his head still to steady the nausea sloshing around in his skull.

"I think I shouldn't have drank Meenah's water," he mumbled.

"Oh fuck. Are you dying or what?" His words were forced into a deadpan, but the fear in his voice stood out like a bloodstain on a white t-shirt.

Tremors rippled through Bro's legs. Seawater shot up his esophagus, churning and black and stormy. He lurched forward. His entire body convulsed, spilling a sludge of sand and tiny dead fish on the pearly pavement.

"Ah," Bro coughed. "That's fucked up."

He insisted on walking on his own back to the apartment. Davesprite hovered at his elbow, pretending not to be poised to catch Bro if he collapsed, babbling on about alchemizing some god-strength pepto bismol. Bro vomited again at their door, spitting out a couple small black mussels and a sanddollar about the size of his thumbnail. Bro staggered into the kitchen to teeter over the sink. Davesprite flitted around him, calmly shoving bottles of water into Bro's hand, suavely braining himself yanking open the medicine cabinet, and stoically sending Jane frantic texts asking her what he should do.

"It's cool. I'm already feeling better," Bro said.

"Yeah, it's all good," Davesprite replied, cracking open a bottle of Tums. "Just drank a little sea goddess poison. No big D. Here, eat these." He poured nine tablets into Bro's hand.

"I think I'll live. I just got to get the taste of dead fish out of my mouth."

An alchemized bottle of Listerine sat in the bathroom. Bro washed his mouth, spitting out the grains of sand trapped between his teeth. Davesprite peeked at him from down the hall.

"Jane says that if you threw up then you should be fine."

"Has this happened before?"

"She says that Dirk dared Jake to drink from the fountain."

Bro wobbled back to the living room and collapsed on the futon. "Figures. Those Striders are fucking delinquents. You stear clear of them, you hear?"

Davesprite huffed, half a snarl, half a grunt. He jiggled his foot. His gaze searched the blank TV screen.

"What's eating you?"

"Why did you kiss me?"

Bro jumped as though shocked by an exposed wire. Davesprite's wings fidgeted, brushing Bro's shoulder.

"What?"

"Yesterday."

"I thought you were asleep."

"I was almost asleep but then my brother started macking on me and as you can imagine it woke my ass right up."

Bro rubbed his hands over his face. "Davesprite..."

"It sure as hell didn't feel brotherly. Is this something that's been going on for a while? Like, I get the feeling that this is not some spontaneous interest in me."

"Look, I had a little bit to drink. It happens. Don't get your panties in a bunch. It was just one kiss." Fresh vomit turned in Bro's stomach.

"Yeah, okay. Just one kiss. Just a little brotherly mouth-to-mouth. No need to be a drama queen over it. Besides, is it even incest if the two people in question are gods, or demi-gods, or whatever? Didn't all the deities in the pantheons back in the old universe get busy with their brothers and sisters? If classical mythology teaches anything, it's that incest ain't a crime when you're a divine."

Bro chuckled. But the laugh died in his throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Just wondering that if, like, Dave ever mans up and asks Roxy out on a date, how taboo would that be?" Davesprite looked down at his feet. "And then with you kissing me... So. Yeah. That's just what I'm thinking, you know what I mean? If that's why you kissed me... I'd been thinking about the same thing. Are any of us really related to each other anymore?"

"Davesprite, you aren't asking me out."

His feathers bristled. "What, you can be into me but I can't be into you?"

"Watch it, you little shit." Bro's heart pounded. He fixed his face in a stone-cold frown despite the flutters in his chest. "Are you fucking with me?"

"No."

He scoffed but warmth swelled in his ribcage. "I'm not the reason you haven't been trying to get back together with Jade, am I? You were sweet on her during those years I was dead."

"No, Bro, believe it or not, not everything I do revolves around you. I've got my own reasons for leaving her be. I just... don't feel interested in that anymore. Don't know why. Might be on account of my bird... ness. Or what, but I don't know."

"When you say 'that', you mean... girls?"

"Girls, guys, everyone. Relationships, getting lucky. None of its really been on my mind for a couple years."

"So when you say you're into me... what exactly do you mean?"

"Like, I'm, like, digging on you. You know?"

"No."

"Okay, so I..." Davesprite stuffed his fists in his pockets. "I like chilling with you and talking about stupid shit... and I guess I want to kiss you or whatever. Dude, you're making me look real uncool making me say this stuff out loud. Look, I don't even really know."

"I think I get it."

"Yeah?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sexuality is fluid, Dave. It flows like a majestic-ass jungle river. I used to be really into a girl who was born a guy. I'm not into chicks usually, but she’s definitely in the top ten hottest people I’ve ever been with. Man, don't think too hard about it. But if you don't want to do anything with me, I'd kinda like to know."

"No. Well. Okay. Listen. If we never did the do I'd be peachy, but if you whipped your schlong out right now I don't think I'd say no. Kinda like... how you don't realize you want a croissant, and you never really _want_ one exactly, but then one is right in front of you and you're like, 'why the fuck not?' You go for it because it's the fucking awesome gourmet shit. All golden brown and smells great and it's conveniently presented in front of your face. But you'd never get in your car, drive down to the nearest French-ass bakery four miles across town to buy the croissant for seven goddamn dollars. Like, I know its a good croissant, but I don't ever want a croissant _that badly_. I'll just grab the bag of bugles from under the futon, to be honest."

"So you're saying you want me to pull my dick out for you  _this second_."

"Ye— _no._ I mean. Yeah?"

"I'm getting mixed signals."

"If you wanted to kiss, I'd be down. Makeouts. Super down. And then touching. I think I'm down." Davesprite looked down at his feet. "Give me a break. I'm not working with a goddamn instruction manual here."

Bro ruffled Davesprite's hair. "What kind of touching do you have in mind? To be honest, I was hoping to give you a blowjob."

"Uh..."

"Or not. We don't have too. No dicks need to get involved."

"Yeah, I've got no problem with that. That's all good. It's just, I... You know, the game made a few changes. Saw room for improvement, I guess. Thought that I’d like to keep a souvenir from my character-building bird experience.”

"By souvenir, you mean...?"

Davesprite glanced down at his groin. He closed his eyes before he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off his hips, underwear and all. 

It was like a girl’s.

Davesprite cleared his throat. “So, yeah, so, nothing big. Like, I’m still mostly me. But there’s a new addition. And, obviously, there was a subtraction. A subtraction happened. And then an addition occurred. I’m thinking of naming it Pussy Galore—“

“Davesprite.” Bro put a finger to his lips.

On closer inspection it was not quite like a girl’s, not that Bro ever had much experience with women. The cleft wasn’t deep. No second pair of folds were tucked between the outer labia. Smelled male enough. But it was pretty; puffy and pink and begging to be sucked and nibbled. Bro's cock twitched.

“Davesprite,” Bro said.

Davesprite stared at the ceiling.

“Dave, look at me.” Bro summoned up the voice he'd used whenever he discovered something mysteriously broken or a carton of apple juice spilled on his turntables.

Davesprite glanced down, wide-eyed. Bro stroked his thigh.

“This is the cutest hentai shit I’ve ever seen.”

And the second cutest thing Bro had ever seen was the blush that spread across his cheeks. Davesprite shrugged his shoulders back. His wings preened. “Yeah, well, I try. Gotta maintain my bishi status. It ain’t easy, you know.”

“Can I give it a kiss?”

“Oh shitting Christ.” Davesprite buried his face in the palm of his hand. Bro stiffened, fearing a tearful break down, until he heard the laughter. “Yes, you sick freak. Sure.”

Bro smirked. He brushed his lips over the hair, down to the source of his warm scent. He lapped at the skin, feeling the heat radiate from within. Davesprite shivered. Bro wiggled his tongue inside, tasting a sharp tang and listening to his little brother gasp. Bro squeezed Davesprite's thighs. The muscles tensed as he brushed over the nerves around his entrance. Bro mouthed at the tender flesh. Blood swelled in his groin.

He made another noise, higher-pitched, and Bro swore it sounded like a chirp. Davesprite threw his hand back over his mouth. Bro found his lips slicker than they were a minute ago. He tasted his musk strong on the tip of his tongue. He was wet. Bro had made him wet.

Bro sucked in a breath. “Davesprite.” His name left his mouth like a moan.

Davesprite removed his hand from his face long enough to ask, “what?”

“I gotta touch you. You—do you wanna sit in my lap?”

The last time Bro held Dave in his lap, he’d been four years old. Davesprite's gaze travelled down to the lump in Bro's jeans. Slowly, he scooted onto his knee.

Bro stroked him with two fingers. When Davesprite’s breathing didn’t change, Bro pushed deeper, mapping out the upward curve. He found a patch of tissue bumpier than the rest of him. Dave yelped.

Bro yanked his fingers free. “Aw shit, was that bad?”

"No,” he panted. “No, no, no, man, come back. Awesome. It’s fucking awesome.”

Bro grinned, smug as a fucker. “How much of a stud am I? I was just taking a guess, but hot damn.”

“Yeah, congrats. You take home the gold in the category of perverts who fingerfuck their baby brothers’ bird pussies.”

Bro slipped his fingers back inside, seeking out that patch again. “It’s interesting, the texture of it. Maybe your prostate got relocated to better jive with your new innards.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just—no, yeah, this is fine. This is completely fucking normal. Just getting my bird vagina excavated by my older brother slash biological father. Yeah, this is exactly where I hoped my life was headed. Dreams really do come true—”

“Dave. Shh. Come back to me.”

“This is all your fault, you know. A childhood inundated with fucking porn puppets and shuriken. Of course I would turn out this way.”

“My puppets made you a bird?” Bro took his chin in his free hand. "Davesprite, if you want you stop, we can just stop. No questions asked."

"No, no, look. The ince—the thing—the thing where you're my brother isn't as weird to me as it probably should be. Maybe because we're gods now. You can keep going—"

"But are you enjoying it?"

"I'm..." Dave stared passed his shoulder. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Well, fuck, I'm not all like 'this is so hot, wow, you're touching my genitals'... but I do like it. Do I seem like I'm not having a good time?"

Bro continued finger-fucking him tenderly, stroking the little happy spot with a gentle rhythm. Davesprite pressed his face into Bro's neck. He chirped, wings shuddering. A spasm rocked him, arching his spine. "Oh fuck," he squeaked. He balled his fists in Bro's shirt.

"Davesprite," Bro murmured. "You're fucking adorable. You feel good, so soft and sweet inside."

Davesprite huffed a laugh but his slit fluttered around Bro's fingers. He pressed harder against Davesprite's inner walls, scrubbing the rough patch until the muscles rippled around him. Davesprite panted. The insides of his thighs were wet with his arousal. Bro's erection pressed into Davesprite's hip, drawing a grunt from him every time Davesprite squirmed.

Davesprite's yelped as he came. He clamped around Bro's fingers, coating them in hot, clear slick. Bro's cock ached. He readjusted Davesprite, shifting him away from his groin. He paused when he found his collar wet with tears.

"Oh, fuck." Bro hugged him tight. "Quit it with the waterworks, all right? Are those tears of joy or was it really that bad?"

Davesprite buried his face in Bro's neck. His hands trembled. "S'pretty good. Excellent service. Five out of five stars."

Bro bundled him up in a ratty blanket snatched out of the closet before popping into the bathroom to relieve himself, jacking his cock to the thought of Davesprite spreading his legs for him.

 

* * *

 

The Lace of Space fluttered like tissue paper in the evening breeze. Davesprite hovered over Bro, pinning the web to the sky while Bro secured it with a line of stitches that stretched for miles. He sipped from a thermos of coffee.

"My arms are about to fall the fuck off," Davesprite complained. "You never said anything about doing this upside down."

"I told you we were sewing a sheet of lace to the sky that is long enough to stretch from dawn until dusk. What part of that didn't make it clear that this was a difficult job? Dawn is almost here anyway. Quit your bitching."

Davesprite groaned. Bro glanced down the lines of his body, his lean hips, his broad shoulders. The wind lifted Davesprite's shirt. Bro leaned up to kiss his tummy.

" _Bro_."

He chuckled and returned to his work.

The goddesses of space reconvened at dawn. In Jade's observatory, they watch the sky slide on, shifting from black, to grey, to purple, to blue. The stars twinkled out of sight as they moved on toward sleeping timezones.

"Well done everyone," Jade said, peering through her telescope. "It looks excellent. I can barely see the seam."

Bro stretched his back. "Couldn't have done it without my little assistant."

"Fuck no, you couldn't," Davesprite said. "And I'd better see some genuine goddamn appreciation for my sacrifice. I can't feel anything but fucking pins and needles from my wrists to my shoulders."

When the space goddesses were taking turns looking through the telescope, Bro whispered in Davesprite's ear, "I've got some genuine appreciation to show you if you want it."

"Oh yeah? Tell me more. What kind of appreciation are we talking about here?"

Bro dropped a kiss on his neck. "Whatever you're into."

Davesprite whirled around. "I want to watch troll Adam Sandler. To mock him relentlessly, of course."

Bro ruffled Davesprite's hair. Davesprite batted his hand away. "Sure, babe."

 


End file.
